


A Day in The Life

by dizzzylu



Series: Marshmallow World (the mpreg 'verse) [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Schmoop, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:31:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: date:13 February 2016prompt:"but you said..."time:60 mins





	1. Foreward

I keep writing fics for this 'verse to satiate my ever-growing need for fluff. Most of them are part of other works, though. Like holiday bingo or prompt fills, and I'd like to keep them all in one place, but don't want things like Hockey RPS sullying my perfect, fluffy world ;)

Thus, this work. 

As I write more bits, I might rearrange the chapter orders so that it reads chronologically, according to the fic timeline. They will most likely all be stand-alone (by chapter), but who knows what can happen.

 **5 April 2019 Note:** So, I was poking around in my fic files, and I found this 30 day prompt challenge that I started and never finished (SUCH a theme in my life, ugh). As it turns out, a few of the prompt fills were for this 'verse, soooooo I'm posting them! Enjoy :) Also, I'm putting estimated dates as the chapter titles, to make it easier to maintain SOME sense of chronology if/when I add future installments. Now, while I seem to be better at keeping track of how time passes in my universe (better than JD ever did for TWoof overall), there may be a few flubs. It's fiction, and I'm skipping around the timeline. Please have some leniency ♥


	2. Christmas 2024

They say after you have your first kid, it gets easier. You don't stress as much about the little things, and the bigger things aren't as scary now that you've been through them once.

Derek doesn't know who "they" are, but it's obvious they've never met Stiles.

Stiles whose only setting is all or nothing, who freaks out as much over a tiny scrape as he does the clutch of skin walkers migrating through California. Who makes a big deal out of something as simple as the boys learning to tie their shoes. He doesn't know how to turn it off and, if Derek's honest with himself, that's half the reason he fell in love with Stiles to begin with.

The thing is, it's kind of hard to remember that at three o'clock in the morning, Stiles hunched over a sewing machine, grumbling about cheap ass thread. Derek tries to ignore it, but the machine is old and the hum is like a drill straight into his brain. It's a good thing the kids are heavy sleepers.

He stumbles out of bed on autopilot, pawing around for his pants and a pair of slippers, and checks on the each of the boys before heading downstairs. Nik sleeps like Stiles, every single limb sprawled in its own direction, but the twins have migrated to one bed, curved together like parentheses underneath their favorite fleece blanket. Stiles and Derek haven't yet decided if they should keep indulging this trend, but it's kind of hard to resist how cute they look sharing one pillow between them.

Ben is last, curled up with his favorite Godzilla plushie. Derek can hear his heartbeat, knows that it's steady, but can't resist sneaking in to adjust the blankets anyway, passing a palm over Ben's soft hair. Ben sighs in his sleep and angles his face up, snuffling around in search of Derek's hand. "I'm here," Derek rumbles, sinking into a crouch. "You're okay, baby." Ben gives him a sleepy smile, eyes slitting open for a moment, and Derek leans in to kiss Ben's downy cheek, to whisper, "Love you," into his ear.

Derek makes a left at the bottom of the stairs, bypassing the twinkling glow of the Christmas tree to steer himself toward the kitchen first. The light over the stove is still on, which is just dim enough for Derek to shuffle through putting water to heat, pulling down two mugs, and digging out the chamomile. Stiles' grousing is a constant throughout, while Derek goes around turning off Christmas lights and waits for the tea to brew.

Mugs in hand, Derek pauses in the doorway of the study to watch Stiles struggle over his project. It feels so warm and cozy here, the whole room turned honey gold from the light of the desk lamp. Stiles' hair is wilder than usual — from his own hands, no doubt — and his shoulders are hunched up almost to his ears. Not a bit of him looks at all relaxed, but Derek's hoping he can help with that.

He starts by taking a sip of tea, and setting the other mug on the desk, well out of Stiles' reach. Stiles is too agitated right now to appreciate it and Derek doesn't want it ending up on the floor, a casualty of Stiles' frustrated flailing. 

Touch comes next; Derek's palm settling between Stiles' shoulder blades. There isn't as much tension as Derek guessed, but it's enough for him to siphon it away, Stiles' shoulders dropping centimeter by centimeter. That's when Stiles' mouth starts to slow, too. The grumbling coming in fits and starts, as opposed to a constant low thrum.

Derek waits until Stiles sighs, a full bodied thing, and slides his hand up, fingers spearing into Stiles' soft hair. He spreads them wide, pushing forward until he brushes over Stiles' forehead, then pulls back, dragging blunt fingernails over Stiles' scalp hard enough to make him shiver. It only takes three tries for Stiles to slump against the back of the chair, like a marionette with all its strings cut. Derek hides his smile against his mug, not that Stiles could see it anyway.

Now that Stiles is still and silent, Derek hands him the extra mug of tea and rests his hand on Stiles' nape. 

"Thanks babe," Stiles murmurs in between slurps. "Sorry about the noise."

"S'okay," Derek murmurs, stroking his thumb behind Stiles' ear. "You realize the pageant is still a week away, right?" Stiles grumbles something into his mug that Derek pretends not to hear. "And that you'll get the dryad treaty worked out in _plenty_ of time?"

"You don't know that. What if th--"

Derek squeezes Stiles' neck to cut him off. "I _do_ know that."

"Derek," Stiles whines.

"Stiles."

Stiles gulps down the last of his tea and lists to the side, letting Derek support his weight. "Just because you're alpha doesn't mean you know everything."

"No," Derek agrees, fingers sifting through Stiles' hair to distract him. "But _you_ know everything, and that's all I need to know." 

"That is dirty pool," Stiles mutters, pushing into Derek's touch.

Derek sets his empty mug on the sewing table and takes a half step away, trying to guide Stiles into a standing position at the same time. "C'mon. The costumes can wait until it's daylight."

"Can they, though?" Stiles asks around a yawn. With Derek behind him, Stiles allows himself to be herded up the stairs and past the bedrooms. "They're stars Derek, maybe they're easier to sew at night." Sighing, Derek strips Stiles out of his t-shirt and hoodie, ignoring Stiles' sleepy giggling. "Get it?" Stiles says, nudging Derek. "Stars. Night sewing." 

"Yes Stiles, I get it." Stiles folds into bed easily, restless until Derek can slip in behind him and tangle their legs together.

Stiles yawns again, fitting himself to the curve of Derek's body. "They were supposed to be easier," he mumbles, working through the last of his fidgeting.

"I know," Derek says, this argument almost routine by now.

"Stars! Five points! Bing bang boom!" One hand emerges from the covers to draw one in the air. Derek grabs it by the wrist and draws it in, circling Stiles' chest. "No one talks about making a wire framework, Derek. _No one_."

"You'll figure it out," Derek murmurs into his ear, starting to drop off. 

Stiles sighs. "Yeah, I will." Silence follows, Stiles' heartbeat finally starting to slow. "Hey babe?" Stiles says.

Derek bites back a groan, rubs a hand over Stiles' ribs. "What's up?"

"Love you."

Derek presses his smile to Stiles' nape. "Love you, too."


	3. Christmas 2031

Nik isn't sure what wakes him at first. It's still dark in his room, the first brassy rays of sun barely edging around his curtains. He yawns into the back of his hand and rolls over, blinking his eyes to bring them into focus. It takes another yawn and a long stretch for him to feel a presence in his room, hear their quick, tiny breaths. One eye is staring at him from the edge of his bed, the other hidden behind a curtain of jet black hair.

"Hey squirt," he rumbles, sleepy and amused. 

"Hi Nikky," Ava replies in what she thinks is a whisper. 

"What's going on?"

"It snowed last night," she says, her little voice tinged with awe.

At four, Ava's still young enough to not remember the winter before, the two feet of snow that fell while they spent their Christmas in their home in the mountains. It's one of Nik's favorite things about Ava, that everything is still pretty new every time she encounters it. Being seventeen, with his eyes firmly on college, Nik can admit he's a bit jaded. That there's not much wonder left in the world. 

"I s'pose you wanna go play in it?" he asks, making room in the bed for Ava to climb in beside him. 

"Duh." Nik snorts; it's hilarious to see what new teenage quirk she's picked up from Logan or Drew.

"The sun isn't up yet, though," he says, stealing a peek at his phone. It's barely 6:30, they're on _vacation_. It's a good thing Ava's cute. And that Nik has years of meditating with their dad to hone his patience. With six siblings vying for his attention, it comes in handy. 

Ava harrumphs and drops into a heap across his body, not quite heavy enough for him to be pinned. "Pleeeeeease," she says, getting louder now. Nik winces and wrestles her into a bear hug before she can get too loud and wake the baby.

"Listen," he whispers into her ear, easing the covers over the both of them. "If you snuggle with me for another—" he does some mental math, having a reasonable idea when their dad will be up and how long it'll take him to start the waffles "—hour and a half, I _promise_ I'll help you build a snowman." 

"Just you and me?"

Nik smiles into her hair. "Just you and me."

She thinks about it for a minute. "Will I get to wear my new mittens?"

"And your new snow pants," he says, pinching her hip to elicit a giggle. Aunt Lydia helped her pick them out during a Thanksgiving shopping trip, and Ava's been desperate to wear them ever since.

Another long minute of silence, then: "Show me the timer." She grabs at his wrist to make her point and he brings up the alarm app on his phone, letting her tap the numbers on her own. She's not old enough to know much about time, but she trusts him not to cheat her, and he doesn't intend to ever break that trust. 

Once she sees the numbers start ticking down, Ava rolls over and presses her ear to Nik's chest, right over his heart. Her little body expands on a sigh, then melts against his, warm and tiny. He presses his nose to her head and takes a deep breath. For all that he may be looking forward to college, to carving out a small path of his own for a little while, he's gonna miss this, too.

"Love you, kiddo," he whispers into her hair.

"Love you, Nikky," she mumbles back, sleepy and sweet.


	4. ~ 2035

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **date:** 13 February 2016  
>  **prompt:** "but you said..."  
>  **time:** 60 mins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was poking around in my fic files, and I found this 30 day prompt challenge that I started and never finished (SUCH a theme in my life, ugh). As it turns out, a few of the prompt fills were for this 'verse, soooooo I'm posting them! Enjoy :)

"But Daddy, you said we could go pick out a new Lego set and go to Ruby's for milkshakes." Zoe's eyes are big and wet, her lower lip pink and quivering. Less has felled bigger men. 

Stiles crouches down, ignoring the pop in his left knee, and pulls her close, his hand stroking through her hair. "Baby, I know what I said, but you're sick. Do you _really_ want to go out to the mall with all those people? Or even in the Jeep? Do you _really_ feel like sharing a triple chocolate milkshake with me?" Zoe whines and snuggles closer, smearing snot and tears all over Stiles' neck. Good thing he got used to bodily fluids at the ripe ol' age of sixteen.

Zoe may only be five, but her squirming knocks Stiles onto his butt, and the next thing he knows, Zoe has her arms and legs wrapped around his torso and she's clinging for dear life. Stiles' heart cracks open another inch.

"Sweetie, listen." He presses his lips to the top of her head, palm smoothing up and down her spine. "The last thing in the world I want you to learn about is disappointment, but there's nothing I can do, no magic wand I can wave to make you feel better."

Zoe lets out a long, shuddery breath. "We could build a blanket fort," she says in a small, watery voice.

"We could definitely do that," Stiles murmurs against her hot skin. "And I could make you some of my special tummy tea."

She peels away from him a little and loops her arms around his neck. "And watch The Princess Bride on your laptop?"

"That. Sounds. _Amazing_." He presses his forehead to hers, and gives her a squeeze. "I'll meet you upstairs?"

Zoe squishes their noses together and tightens her grip. "Carry me?"

Biting down on a groan, Stiles somehow gets up from the floor while simultaneously adjusting Zoe into a bridal carry. "As you wish."


	5. 7 November 2039

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **date:** 25 February 2016  
>  **prompt:** fall  
>  **time:** 32 mins

Surprises are hard to come by when one is married to someone with supersenses, but Stiles does try. And his success rate hovers around fifty percent, according to his sketchy math. The key is, never telling anybody in the pack except for his dad. And Ava. She, like Stiles, can't stand being out of the loop. She's also kind of conniving, in a sweet, pre-teen way, which Stiles should probably be more worried about. But Stiles was a schemer at her age, and look at how he turned out!

Well, whatever. It comes in handy sometimes. He'll worry about the rest later.

The point is, surprises are hard, but the look on Derek's face says this one is a winner. Stiles is ridiculously pleased about it.

He heard about the cabin through a friend of a friend, built for the express purpose of being a sanctuary for werewolves who need a neutral place to hide from hunters, or as a weekend getaway from the city. Stiles and Derek are neither of those things, but the cabin's owner is an old family friend of the Hales, and all but ordered Stiles to use it for the week. 

To the untrained eye, it looks like nothing more than a pile of charred ruins. Not unlike the original Hale house, the first time Stiles saw it. But to anyone who has the… combination, for lack of a better word, it's a sweeping log cabin lit up from the inside. It's gorgeous enough to be on the cover of a magazine, if it wouldn't ruin the intricate sheltering spell.

Stiles steps out of their truck, shaking out stiff arms and legs, and looks back toward the way they came. The time for peak color is long gone, but it still smells like fall, crisp and wild. Even the sky seems bluer, the clouds puffier. Or maybe Stiles is able to notice it more without an entire wolf pack to ride herd on.

By the time he comes around to the passenger side, bags in hand, Derek is on the porch, smoothing a palm over the wrap-around railing. He looks almost reverential, his eyes bright, a sad tilt to his mouth. 

"I've been here before," Derek says, quiet, staring down at the wood underneath his hand. Stiles freezes, one foot on the first step. "We came here with my parents, the summer before Cora was born." He twists to glance behind him, like he can see through the cabin to the forest beyond. "There used to be private ocean access. That's why." He looks back to Stiles. "It's too cool for that now, though."

"Maria didn't tell me," Stiles says on a exhale. He studies Derek, looking for any trace of sadness or apprehension. "If it's too much, we can go. I'll find us a hotel suite in San Fran instead?"

Derek's lip curls. "No," he says with a shake of his head. "This is great. I'd— I'd forgotten about it, I guess. Maybe that's part of the magic?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, climbing the stairs. At the front door, he hands off a bag to Derek and searches the frame for the rune to let them in. One obscure Latin phrase, and they're both pushing inside, trying to look everywhere at once. Beside him, Derek sighs, a full-bodied shrug that Stiles feels behind his breastbone. 

He smiles, placing his bag on the floor, and leans in to nip at Derek's ear. "Happy fiftieth birthday, _Grandpa_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so I know the "canon" birthday for Derek is Christmas, but I always found that particularly cruel, and changed it. Also, I think I'd decided on my own date for Derek's birthday before that little tidbit was revealed. Either way, it's my 'verse, I do what I want.


	6. ~ 2042

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **date:** 15 February 2016  
>  **prompt:** tick tock  
>  **time:** 27 mins

"Ava, let's _go_!" 

Stiles peers up the stairs for any sign of movement and checks his watch again, biting his lip. "If you don't hurry up, Melly's going to think you're standing her up and Lydia will legitimately kill me!" A long-suffering sigh drifts over from the sofa; Stiles does his best to ignore it. He's rewarded with the squeak of door hinges and his oldest daughter peeking over the third floor banister.

"Why do you have to be so melodramatic?"

"It's a gift," he says with a flourish. He watches her stroll down the stairs, looking like she doesn't have a care in the world, and tries to tamp down on the butterflies in his stomach. She rolls her eyes as she reaches the last step, palms smoothing over her form-fitting jacket. Stiles is grateful for the little hint of uncertainty.

"It's 2042 dad," Ava sighs. "How are you still this patriarchal about your daughter's first date?"

"How dare you," Stiles says, pressing a hand to his chest. "It isn't about you being a girl. It's about another one of my babies' life milestones."

Ava squints at him. "You were like this with Nikky and the twins?"

Stiles' nod is vigorous. "Absolutely." 

"He was worse," Derek rumbles from behind Stiles. "Be glad you're the fifth child. When Nikky when on his first date, Stiles had a bag packed to go on a stake out."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I've gotten a lot better since then," he says, reaching for Ava's twitching hand. "I promise."

Derek leans in, chin hooked over Stiles' shoulder, and says, "And I already checked your car for bugs." 

Stiles shrugs him off with a groan. "You will be able to go on your date in peace," he says to Ava, tugging her into a hug. It's full-bodied, her arms tight around his neck, just like the way Stiles used to hug his dad. For a second, everything goes watery and he presses a kiss to Ava's temple to hide his shuddery breath. "But if you aren't home by eleven," he continues, "I know the combo to Pop-Pop's gun safe and it won't even matter if my aim is awful."

Ava's snort is muffled by his chest, but she gives him a kiss on the cheek before moving on to give Derek a hug. "You said eleven-thirty when I asked!"

"A dad is allowed to change his mind," Stiles sniffs.

Derek wraps an arm around Stiles' waist and draws him close. "Eleven-thirty is fine. Please have fun."

She pecks him on the cheek and flashes him a wink. "You guys have fun, too."


End file.
